Pamela Moran's Blog

Whether painting, out on a photo shoot or writing, Pam has always had a bend toward the creative side of life. Her favorite is when she can combine any of those with travel. Places get into her blood and she loves to explore the possibilities, always with characters and a story in mind.

An astrologer for most of her adult life, Pam has been known to see auras & the occasional ghost. Considering she lives in a haunted house in the mountains of southern California, this keeps life interesting.

Amazon Giveaway fine print: Pamela Moran has paid for all prizes, sales tax, and shipping. Entry requires an Amazon.com account. Amazon will ship prizes to winners. Your account information is not shared with Pamela Moran, except winners' names may be made public. Amazon is not a sponsor of this promotion.

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. Every 50th eligible entry will win, up to 3 winners. This giveaway started August 15 ,2016 9:06 PM PDT and ends the earlier of August 22 ,2016 11:59 PM PDT or when all prizes have been awarded.

Amazon Giveaway fine print: Pamela Moran has paid for all prizes, sales tax, and shipping. Entry requires an Amazon.com account. Amazon will ship prizes to winners. Your account information is not shared with Pamela Moran, except winners' names may be made public. Amazon is not a sponsor of this promotion.

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. Every 25th eligible entry will win, up to 3 winners. This giveaway started March 24,2016 12:03 PM PDT and ends the earlier of March 31,2016 11:59 PM PDT or when all prizes have been awarded.

Astrology is full of archetypes. The prideful Leo, the fast talking and/or flighty Gemini, the brash and bold Aries.

If I tell you my best friend is a Taurean do you have an immediate picture of her in your mind? Sturdy and steady, loyal. Security loving. Patient. Maybe a tad bit lazy (although she claims she's only pacing herself), definitely stubborn.

How about Capricorn? Disciplined, ambitious, grounded, cool under fire. Self-contained.

While these traits probably do apply to the Taurean and Capricorns you know, we are all so much more than our Sun Signs.

What if I told you my Taurean friend has a Leo Moon, and that self-contained Capricorn has a Sagittarius Moon? Does that change your perspective of them in any way?

In an astrological chart the Moon sign represents our emotional nature. How we instinctively react. How our emotions color our perceptions. How we protect ourselves. That Taurean with the Leo Moon has a bit of regalness about her and her ego can flare when her Moon perceives an emotional threat. Our steady Taurus isn't so steady at that point, not with her ego-flamed temper on display. Not an introvert by any stretch of the imagination, she does enjoy being the center of attention but is happiest bestowing her affections on those she cares about.

And that Capricorn Sun with the Sagittarius Moon? He has a great inner need for adventure. To get out in the world. But that strong and instinctive internal need is at odds with his ambitious Capricorn Sun. Sagittarius Moon pushes to leave the paperwork behind, to set off for the next adventure right now, but he's a workaholic and has an issue leaving anything undone. Balancing those two aspects of his personality can sometimes be a daily struggle.

If you're a writer, that inner turmoil, that internal push of the Moon's reactive needs against the Sun's desire to act can be a goldmine in terms of character development.

And that's only part of the story.

Come join me February 1st over at Writer Univ as we use astrology to dig into the heart and soul of your hero, your heroine, and/or your villain.

And, just maybe, find out a little about yourself.

***(That Taurean did give me permission to talk about her - probably her Leo Moon in action!)

Sexy to Go, Volume 7

Eleven new sexy stories

Including DREAMWALKER: Finders, Inc

by Pamela Moran

*****

When Flint, a psychic PI, accuses Dreamwalker, Iona, of thievery, all bets are off. Flint never expected navigating the dream world to be quite so treacherous. Or so sensual. Can he keep his hands off Iona long enough to discover the truth?

*****

Dark tendrils, so much like a lover’s caress, whispered over Iona Brooks’ skin.

Brooding. Possessive.

A wicked shiver slithered down her spine.

Of course, considering the dimness of the crowded bar, the moan of the blues coming from the stage area where the live band played, that delicious anonymousness of almost no one in the small, mid Californian coastal town knowing her, all added to the evening’s atmosphere.

The tendrils were a bit of surprise, but they also meant the trap she’d set for her prey had been sprung.

Prey who believed himself the predator.

He’s here. She let the thought linger in the air and a small, satisfied smile to curve her lips.

“Where?” Kurt Walters, her Dreamwalker anchor and fellow telepath, sat a glass of Chardonnay on the table in front of her along with his own two finger, short glass of bourbon. He scooted into the booth next to her and slid his arm along the top of the seat. His hand lightly cupped her shoulder.

“Northwest corner.” Her smile widened as she turned her gaze to her partner. “Probably the far booth.”

“Ahh.” He touched his glass to hers. “The one with the best view of the place. Of this table.”

“Plus, he’s in the shadows.” She took a sip of the buttery wine.

“Best place to hide.”

Those dark tendrils swirled. Seemed to caress her cheek. Snapped a short burst of sparks in the space between her and Kurt.

He blinked twice and leaned back. “Well, now. That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Iona toyed with the stem of her wine glass.

“So, Sugar.” He squeezed her shoulder. “With this new development, how are we playing this? Am I your sexy, stud-muffin lover or just your BFF?”

She bit back a laugh. Right. Kurt definitely qualified as a stud-muffin lover, just not hers. Growing up in the same house, even though not really related, left her with too many sisterly feelings for him. “Do you even know what BFF means?”

Stolen Spirit (PSI Sentintels, Book One) is only 99¢ through September 15th!

And with all eight volumes of Sexy To Go are on sale through September 27th for 99¢ each, this is a great opportunity to check out the short, sizzling stories before Volume 9 comes out at the end of the month.

Sexy To Go, Volume 6

Eleven new, sexy stories

Including

Dreamwalker: Dream Date

by Pamela Moran

*****

Dreamwalker Lee Jacobs needs answers to who shot him, to who wanted him dead. Can a dream date with sexy Dr. Brynn Keegan, a researcher at the Lucid Dream Center, help him find the answers? Or will that date only lead to murder?

*****

The closeup photo of the woman, caught looking over her left shoulder towards the undercover photographer, lay on top of the stack of other photos on the desktop where Lee Jacobs had tossed them.

Lee leaned back in his chair, rubbed both hands over his face then linked his fingers behind his neck. His gaze locked on the photo.

He knew this woman.

A sense of anxiety, and maybe a hint of annoyance, filled her light blue eyes. Blonde hair, pulled back into a loose tail with a clip at her neck, framed an oval face. She could be anywhere from thirty to forty. Smooth, pale skin. Beautiful in an extremely classic manner.

Cool. Regal. Distant.

Dr. Brynn Keegan.

Researcher at LDRC, the Lucid Dreaming Research Center.

From the base of his head, he pushed his fingers upwards through his close cropped hair, careful of the still tender wound along the top right side of his skull.

Why the hell couldn’t he place Dr. Keegan in his memory?

The woman worked with Tessa Logan, his buddy and fellow Dreamwalker, Cole Pierce’s friend. Tessa was actually the reason this dossier even existed. Weird happenings at the facility. Tessa involved Cole, who involved him.

Lee rotated his shoulders.

Not like he had much else to do, considering his other choice consisted of staying home and staring out the window. No active duty. No idea for how long.

Damn doctors. Damn boss who listened to the damn doctors.

Lee pushed the photos further away.

And damn gorgeous doctor he knew he should know but met a solid ass brick wall inside his head.

A few years ago I was in Ely, Nevada for a high school reunion taking place over the Fourth of July. The fireworks that evening were spectacular and I was so thrilled to be there, to be able to take some gorgeous pictures, to see friends so important in my life, to rekindle friendships with a few I'd hadn't seen in far too long.

I've seen several fireworks displays since then, in different venues, celebrating a variety of occasions, but none have been as special as that Fourth of July, surrounded by friends from my past, my husband's arms around my waist as I leaned against him, and, of course, tracking the display with my camera.

Eleven sexy, new stories in Sexy to Go, Volume Five

Volume Five includes

Dreamwalker: This Time

by Pamela Moran

Something is stalking Tessa's dreams. Is Cole, her Dreamwalker ex-lover, willing to risk his heart to save her, or has that bridge been completely burnt to ashes?

*****

Fog swirled in the gloominess, its tendrils stretching and wrapping around Tessa’s legs. She stood on a hill overlooking a wide valley littered with dim lights in the distance.

This was a dream.

Only a dream.

She rotated her shoulders and tried to ignore the throb in her left arm. In daylight hours, the gash had appeared as an old scar. But she’d never been hurt there. Except in last night’s nightmare.

Now, the wound ached as if new.

Only a dream.

This didn’t mean a damn thing.

She settled on the ground, arms around her bent knees. High ground. Above everything. Away from everything. The better to see anyone or anything approaching.

At least that was her working theory.

Her regular day had been intense. That sense of being followed had strengthened to the point she’d wondered if she’d picked up yet another stalker. In spite of what she’d told Cole in his dream the night before, she didn’t feel as if she’d overreacted.

Someone or something followed her.

And she had no idea why.

Sleep terrified her.

She’d kept the lights in her bedroom on and had stayed awake as long as she could, but obviously had succumbed.

Just a dream.

A low growl from somewhere behind her sent shivers up her spine and coursing through her blood.

Wake up.

Not working. Okay, then. She was a damn researcher. Find the logic.

This was a damn dream and whatever owned that growl couldn’t hurt her.

Her arm throbbed.

Right.

Logic didn’t work in dreams.

The fog thickened. Coiled around her body. Coldness seeped through the thin fabric of her T-shirt and even the heavier denim of her jeans.

She swallowed once. Wake up.

Fur, rough and bristly, brushed her right arm then slid behind her to rub against her left arm.

Crap.

Her movements slow, she angled her head to glance at the ground to her side.

Yellow eyes blazed from the darkness, held her gaze. A warm wetness scraped her arm, like damp sandpaper. Or a big cat’s tongue.

Sexy to Go has ten great stories this month!

Volume Four includes Dreamwalker: Touched

by Pamela Moran

Sent to protect a local lawman from a Cartel Dreamwalker, FBI agent Shaye Taggart is shocked to find the tables turned as sexy Sheriff Hawkins walks right into her dreams.

*****

Everett Hawkins stood in the open door of the local diner. He ignored the siren scent of fresh baked bread and instead took his time scanning the interior.

Three in the afternoon and the place was still packed. This is what notoriety will get you. Small, Southern town. Murder. Mexican cartel. People were curious. Curious enough to make the trip. Meant lots of press.

And people of the press.

He was sick of them all.

A tall, willowy redheaded woman bumped into him. “Excuse me.”

He glanced down at her. Took a second look. Blue eyes, as blue as his favorite lake on a bright spring afternoon, stared up at him. Big, blue eyes with a bare hint of challenge.

Great. Another reporter.

He frowned at her.

Her chin lifted but one side of her mouth tilted upwards and a slight sparkle lit those eyes. “You’re blocking the door, Sheriff.”

The other part of notoriety. His face all over the damn place. Even without a uniform, every damn stranger to town knew he was the law.

With an inclination of his head, he stepped to one side to let the redhead pass. He also went back to studying the interior of the diner, dismissing her presence.

He had no time for reporters. No patience.

“Sheriff.” Her voice low and husky, she leaned towards him as she stepped towards the door. Her scent, fresh and at the same time exotic, filled him. “I need to talk to you.”

“I bet you do.” He took a step away without bothering to look at her.

She touched his forearm. Electric heat coiled where her fingertips met his bare skin. “It’s about your dreams.”

“Excuse me?” Mimicking her earlier words, he glanced at the hand resting on his arm then into those lake blue eyes.

“Your dreams.” That chin lifted more, but the sparkle in her eyes disappeared, replaced by something with a bit more heat. “Or should I say nightmares? The ones putting those dark circles under your eyes, leaving you vaguely unsettled and worried once you wake up. Too early, I might add.”

“Really?” He studied her a bit closer. The thin, light brown leather jacket she wore stopped below her waist. Although she didn’t carry a purse or a reporter’s notebook, that didn’t mean a damn thing. Especially with modern cell phones and their ability to record just about anything. And that slight bulge under her jacket could be a cell phone. Or something else. “Not much of a leap, considering what’s been happening around here.”

She pulled her hand away and a sudden coolness enveloped his arm.

Strange, but he’d examine that later. From her back pocket she pulled a business card. How, he had no idea, since he’d swear those jeans had been painted on those long legs.

Sexy to Go is back with twelve new stories this month!

Volume Three includes Dreamwalker:Power of Attraction

by Pamela Moran

Law of attraction takes on a completely different meaning when Audra gets pulled into the dream of the sexy man she’s just met.

Can she and Trigg hold on long enough to figure out what’s real?

*****

Audra Keller rubbed the tension spot between her brows. She loved her mom, but after flying cross county and then driving over two hours to get here, to take care of her injured mother, having to stand in for her at this installation dinner was fast giving Audra a headache. And she hadn’t even made it through the doorway, much less found her seat or feasted on the watery salad or rubber chicken they served at these type of functions.

Not like she wasn’t at loose ends right now, though. After her Dreamwalker partner with the PSI undercover agency had been shot last month, he’d been ordered to stand down for a minimum of two months. Maybe more. As his anchor in real time, that left her schedule wide open.

Which didn’t change the fact Mom owed her big time.

Unless this was all some sort of secret plan her mother had concocted. Break a leg. Get Audra home. Marry her off to the absolute perfect choice in son-in-laws.

No, that took conspiracy theories too far, even for Audra’s mother.

But damn, what she wouldn’t give to have her gun with her. Her real gun. Not that baby derringer in the tiny little bag Mom had insisted she carry. But she couldn’t hide her real gun anywhere in this dress.

The things she did for her mother.

A man, several people in front of her, shifted to lean forward and press both hands on the check in table and into the personal space of the woman checking people off the list. “I don’t have all evening. Why are you taking so damn long? Step it up already or find someone who can actually do the job.”

Joy. Mr.Sourpuss Jones. Science teacher. Bane of Audra’s high school years. Mr. There’s No Such Thing as psychic ability. How many times had he ridiculed her? Left her feeling inadequate, like a freak on display.

She resisted the urge to shrink into herself. High school had been more than a few years ago and he was being an asshole. “Mr. Jones —”

“Clyde, are you offering to help check people in?” A tall, broad shouldered man, an Adonis really, in a dark suit stepped from out of nowhere and clasped a hand on Mr. Jones’ shoulder. “That’s awfully kind of you but I’m sure it’s under control. Why don’t you find your seat?”

Mr. Sourpuss met Audra’s gaze as he swung around. His eyes darted between her and the taller man and his lips thinned into a straight line before he stalked away.

“Disaster averted.” Mr. Even More Gorgeous Up Close smiled at the woman behind the table.

The woman, tears shimmering on her lashes, beamed at him. “You always know how to handle these tricky situations, Trigg.”

Trigg.

Interesting name.

While Trigg was busy with the woman, Audra let her gaze roam over his physique. Maybe this function wouldn’t be quite so boring or painful after all. Those broad shoulders narrowed to a trim waist and while the suit jacket hid his ass, those suit pants showed off a fine, muscular pair of thighs. Tanned skin, light brown hair kissed gold by the sun, eye candy at its finest.

Not hard to look at, at all.

He turned and caught her gaze with his warm blue eyes. Her heart skipped at the same moment her breath caught.

Well, shit.

That’s a bit too interesting. Too intense.

His eyes crinkled in the corners. “You’re Gayle Keller’s daughter.”

Statement. Not question. “And you know that, how?”

The smile that started with his eyes twitched at his firm lips. “Pictures on her mantle. On her desk at the flower shop. On her phone. And —”

“Got it. You know my mother.”

The full blown smile was killer. Totally deadly, aimed straight at her. “And I’ve wanted to meet you for awhile now. I’m glad you were able to make it tonight.”

She ignored the hand he held out, pretended not to see it because she sure as hell wasn’t touching him. This kind of internal reaction, just from looking into his eyes, meant she needed to stay far away from him. With a short dip of her chin, her dark hair, somewhat longer in the front, fell forward as she cut her gaze to the woman behind the table, the woman way too interested in this exchange. “Keller —”

“Oh yes, Audra. I already have you checked in. Trigg, she’s at your table, could you show her the way?”

While Elsie might not be that far back, her story came out in November 2013, the idea was conceived several years before. Not just Elsie, but the entire PSI premise was an idea floating around in my head for years before Elsie's Secret was published.

The Institute for Psychic Studies - IPS - is ran inside an old, stone mansion on extensive grounds in a remote area of Minnesota. This is where professors, teachers and scientists work to find answers to the whys and wherefores of human psychic ability. This is also where Calea Fontaine (Gavin's Woman) works as a teacher and where Gabe Nicholetti (Blind Sight) was raised.

However, IPS is also a cover for a private, secret agency - the PSI - operating in tandem with the federal government. The PSI work in the background to defend and shield unwary victims against the twisted underside of a psychic society bent on exploiting an unsuspecting, mundane civilization.

Because Elsie was the first of the PSI stories, she has a soft spot in my heart. I hope you'll check her out, and the entire PSI world!

Volume Two includes:

DREAMWALKER: NightScape

by Pamela Moran

Reggie and Cliff have a common goal: Keep her patient and his friend from being killed. If they can keep their hands off of each other, they might stand a chance of them all coming out of this alive.

Dark. Forbidding.

Shadows everywhere.

Cliff Braxton rolled his shoulders.

For a dream world, this place seemed dreary. Depressive.

Understandable, considering someone had attempted to kill the dreamer less than twelve hours ago.

Cliff’s mouth tightened as he again surveyed the shadows.

Lee Jacobs. Buddy, agent, fellow Dreamwalker.

Dammit. Friend or not, Cliff shouldn’t have been able to enter Lee’s dreams so easily, without an invitation, without any real pushback. Didn’t bode well for Lee’s current state of health. Or his survival.

Lee had come out of surgery. They’d found the bullet. No actual word on his prognosis. Wait and see.

With a hard shrug, Cliff shoved his senses outward, pushing at the boundaries of Lee’s dreamscape. Wait and see wasn’t a normal part of Cliff’s vocabulary. Not when a friend lay unconscious. When that buddy might die, unable to tell them who had done this and why.

No, Cliff wasn’t waiting. Those answers might well lay in Lee’s subconscious. Might be accessible through the dream portal.

A big maybe.

But it beat the hell out of wait and see.

And maybe he could find a way to bolster Lee’s defenses. Bolster from the inside, add a layer of inner protection.

Worth a shot.

Cliff took a cautious step forward into that dark, shadowy land. No structure to speak of, nothing to anchor this into any semblance of reality. No buildings. No trees. Nothing but various shades of darkness stretched out and leaching any semblance of color from the landscape.

Nothing but shadows.

But –

There. A few feet to the left, under a particularly dark and misty area. He stilled. Tested the area with his senses.

Gavin's Woman introduces us to Gavin Dunbar. He's the liaison between Ben Garrett, head of the PSI and the Institute for Psychic Studies, and the director of Homeland Security. Son of a Senator and former military, Gavin understands diplomacy as well as covert ops. He understands the need for flying under the radar. He's calm under pressure. Confident. Good with a gun.

His Achilles heel? Calea Fontaine.

Calea works at the Institute. She tried life as a PSI agent and hated it. Now, she's a teacher utilizing her gifts to ground her students, to help them explore and control their own talents. But she also has visions, quick glimpses into the future of happily-ever-afters, an hereditary gift handed down from her grandmother.

A gift Gavin Dunbar doesn't trust.

Too bad, really, considering Gavin is her soul mate. But he doesn't believe in Fate, wants no part of Destiny. None of that, however, keeps him from following her to the storm tossed coast of Oregon.

Add in a psychopath with a dark obsession of his own, and Calea and Gavin are in a world of trouble.

*****

When I sat down to start a new story, Gavin's Woman wasn't what I intended to write. But I'd had this story idea stuck in my head, rolling around my subconscious, along with a setting and a name. Calea. No idea who she belonged with. Then my critique partner had a dream.

Yep, a dream.

In that dream, she and I were somewhere on the coast, meandering through a street fair full of artists and craft people, when she turned to a vendor and said to him, "This is Gavin's Woman."

When she told me of her dream, that light bulb moment hit and I knew exactly who Calea belonged with, who she loved. And why it was all a big, huge problem!

Sample romance in all its flavors in Sexy to Go.

From paranormal to contemporary, you'll find your fix here. Look for a brand new collection every month!

DREAMWALKER: Key to Paradise by Pamela Moran

Pulled together through a world of dreams, Lena and Davis might have found the Key to Paradise. Can he convince her to take a chance, to believe in impossible possibilities, to hold on to their dream?

Excerpt:

Lena Andrews sat on a light blue beach towel, on warm island sand as a balmy breeze ruffled the loose strands of her short hair away from her face. An exotic, floral hint of fragrance lingered on the air and a brilliant sunset hovered over the horizon with bold reds giving way to golden oranges and falling into the deep blues of the water.

She wrapped her arms around her drawn up legs and rested her chin on her bare knees.

Naked in paradise.

Not too hard to figure this dream out, considering the two feet of snow outside her mountain cabin window, with more falling and not scheduled to stop until morning. The thought of trudging through all of that to get to the ski lodge and work tomorrow morning had had her burrowing down with the electric blanket on high and the covers over her head.

Yeah, sitting on a deserted island beach sounded blissful.

And warm.

She’d face the snow and the cold once the alarm blared and yanked her from this dream.

Arching her back, she rotated her shoulders then lifted her face to the gentle breeze to let it caress her skin. Blissful. The naked part, though. Hmmm. Puzzling.

“Well, hello.” A deep, gravelly, male voice came from the right, just behind her. Tingles of awareness careened across her skin.

What the – Lena’s shoulders came forward, that first instinctual urge to fold into herself. To minimize her vulnerability.

No. This is my dream, dammit.

She straightened her back and squared her shoulders before angling her head to look over her right shoulder.